


Auld Lang Syne

by Ishyko



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishyko/pseuds/Ishyko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve leads to a variety of resolutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Meadow Lion

 

 

**Bartowski-Woodcomb Apartment. 12/31/08. 3:20am**

Heat. 

He was flushed with it. 

Dark. 

He was bathed in it. He turned, trying to burrow into the warmth. His mouth opened. A soft breath of air escaped. Whispered words. Urgent. Frantic. Restrained. 

Unbearable delicious heat. The faint scent of... ginger.

"Chuck!" came the whisper.

Chuck's eyes flew open and he stared blankly in the darkened room, disoriented. His name had been called in the dream and even now it seemed to echo in his head. The heat was fading from his body as his sweat-slicked skin cooled in the bedroom air. His nightstand clock read 3:24am.

Again. 

And again he found himself hard as a rock and randy as a goat. Chuck raked his fingers through his sweat soaked hair and took a deep breath. He needed a girlfriend. A real one.

**Orange Orange Super Secret Lair. 12/31/08. 10:30am**

"How can you possibly infiltrate Oliver Arro's compound?" Chuck asked. "Doesn't everyone know that he's, you know... vicious and suspicious and paranoid? He doesn't let just anyone in."

"Yes. And that is why you and Bryce will be posing as the creators of this game at this afternoon's reception for up-and-coming designers"

"What!" Chuck shot out of his chair. He stared at the monitor where the general gazed back... unamused. "But we never made the game. It was just in the early planning stages when I left Stanfo--"

"Suffice it to say that it's a game now. And a rather fun one too, if you'll permit me to say."

Chuck stared at the monitor. "Thank you."

The General cracked a smile. "I really don't think I've been doing you any favors, Chuck." With that, the General signed off.

Bryce shot him one of those Tom Cruise/Maverick shit eating grins. "I love it when a plan comes together.

**Buy More. 12/31/08. 2:30pm**

"Grimes!"

At the sound of Big Mike screaming for him Morgan jumped and spun away from the bank of televisions he'd been turning on. "Ye-yes sir!" His hands twitched as if he'd been doing something wrong which was ridiculous because for once he was actually doing his job. He settled on crossing his arms and tilted his head to the side in what he liked to think of as his 'yes, how may I help you' pose.

Big Mike rounded the corner, his eyes scanning in a determined, Terminator-ish sort of way. His gaze locked on Morgan.

So this is what Sarah Conner felt like on that endless evening. But she ended up with Kyle. Or rather, Kyle's baby. Eventually. Ok, so that turned out like crap. He could relate. Life had been crap since "Ned" drove his car through the front of the store last week.

"Where's Bartowski?"

"Do I look like his keeper?" Oh dear God, had he said that out loud? The look on Big Mike's face confirmed it.

"You look like a Buy More employee who's going to be scrubbing toilets for the next month if -- "

Morgan reached into his pocket and brought out his cell phone. "I'll find him."

**Los Angeles Outskirts. Arro Compound. 12/31/08. 2:31pm**

"You're doing it wrong."

Bryce shot a look over his shoulder back at Chuck who quickly recognized it as the are-you-as-dumb-as-you-sound expression. Wow. He was amazed to find out how much that look still hurt.

Bryce continued to rapidly type commands that would upload a virus to the computer files of the notorious gamer. "Would you rather do it?" Bryce asked sharply. "Because we've got nothing but time."

"Er. No. It's just that if you gave it this command," Chuck stood next to Bryce and reached across him to type in the recommended function, "then the virus will continue to mutate thus escaping detection. At least for a few days, which should be sufficient I would hope."

The monitor read "complete" and Bryce yanked the flash drive out of the computer. At that moment the sound of footsteps outside the study door caused a mild panic. Something must have gone wrong with Sarah and Casey because there should have been plenty of time to perform the job and leave the reception undetected.

While Chuck stood behind the desk, frozen, watching the door handle turn, Bryce had already backed him into a corner behind the black lacquered mother-of-pearl inlaid screen.

There wasn't much room. Chuck stood motionless, squeezed against the wall by Bryce. 

The door flew open and Oliver Arro strode in. He was having an argument with another familiar voice. Jill.

Bryce flinched when he heard her voice and the only reason Chuck could tell was because Bryce's body was backed up against his own front. 

And that was how Chuck had a non-intersect flash. The scent that rose from Bryce's hair was ginger. The same shampoo as Sarah, no doubt. What the hell? Was it some CIA standard issue shampoo that all agents used because it carried nanites or some other top secret government goodness?

Chuck leaned forward just a bit and inhaled slowly.

That scent was in his dreams. And he didn't know what it meant.

A moment later the door clicked shut and Bryce gave the all clear. He was hissing subvocal directions to Sarah and Casey and ushering Chuck out of the study and back into the party unobtrusively.

Chuck found himself parked in an out of the way nook behind a plant. "Stay put."

"Woof."

Bryce almost smiled. "I'll be right back."

Chuck tried to stay hidden. He really did. But whistling in a so-called casual way was probably not the best way to stay in the background.

"I haven't seen you here before."

Chuck spun around and found himself nearly nose to nose with Mr. Arro. He hastily backed up a step in an effort to maintain his personal space.

'Uh... no. It's my first time. Here. In your house. "

Mr. Arro took a step forward and Chuck took another step back. And stopped against a wall. "Ahh, a virgin."

"What!"

"Someone I haven't had as a ... guest... before... Mr...?"

"Carmichael. Jorge Carmichael. Uh, could you just sort of -- " Chuck made a shooing motion to indicate Mr. Arro should step back. Instead of moving back he proceeded to brace a hand against the wall near Chuck's head.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"He better not be," a new voice muttered darkly.

Mr. Arro leaned away from Chuck and turned to glare at the newcomer. Bryce had two tumblers in his hand with a tawny colored liquid inside. "Here you go, sweetheart. Bottoms up." 

And with that Bryce tossed the drink back in a challenging way. Chuck followed suit and was jolted by a memory at the taste of whiskey and tequila on his tongue. 

**Stanford University. Bryce and Chuck's room at the fraternity. Six years ago**

"Morning!"

Chuck cracked open one eye and immediately shut it as the bright sunlight stabbed into his brain. "Ouch." He pulled the blanket over his head.

It was promptly yanked back down. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" Bryce's voice was unusually bright. And vibrant. Rooming with a morning person was always difficult but Bryce seemed to be taking it to extremes.

He sat on the edge of Chuck's bed and the weight shift on the flimsy mattress caused Chuck to roll towards Bryce.

He felt the heat radiating from Bryce's hip through the thin sheet and shivered. Chills. Aw, hell. Maybe he should just go now and reserve his spot at the porcelain god.

"I got you some coffee but there's no sugar in the kitchen so I put some hazelnut cream in there because I know you don't drink it black."

Chuck slowly opened his eyes and stared at Bryce. His hangover must be worse than he thought because it seemed like Bryce was talking really fast instead of his usual smirking drawl. 

With painstaking care Chuck eased himself into sitting position and rested against the headboard. He ran his tongue across his teeth and carefully tasted his mouth in an attempt to identify --

Chuck snatched the coffee cup from Bryce and took a deep swallow. He swished first with the second drink. "Dear God! What the hell crawled into my mouth and died?"

Bryce stared.

Chuck backtracked at Bryce's expression. "Oh, hey, man. Thanks. You're a lifesaver." He took another drink. "No more tequila. No more whiskey. And definitely no whiskey and tequila together. Last night's one big uncomfortable blank." His eyes wandered over to the clock.

9:30am.

"Oh, fuck!" Chuck thrust his mug into Bryce's hands and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'm gonna be late for class." He stood up and the sheet fell away. It was uncommonly... airy. He glanced down.

"Where the hell are my pants?"

**Buy More. 12/31/08. 2:45PM**

The Slaughter of Orcs continued on the latest gaming console.

Buymoria. A place in which Morgan was one of the lowest of the low. Not only in real life but now it translated into a constant reminder of how he had failed Anna and how she had turned to a new man in her life.

Morgan's fingers flew across the game's controller as he hacked, slashed, and diced his way into Lord of the Rings gaming history.

He should never have bought that car. He should have known better than to take money from Devon. How the heck was he going to pay him back? What were the chances of hitting the lottery two times in a month?

"Morgan, is it? Morgan, uh, Grimes? Chuck's friend?"

Morgan turned around and came face to chest with the most awesome of awesomness. Captain Awesome's dad. He gave him a quick once over to see if maybe he had some secret cape on, but no. Just the usual LLBean crap.

"Yes. Mr. Woodcomb, how may I be of service?"

Mr. Woodcomb smiled and rocked back on his heels. 'Actually I was thinking I might be able to offer you something."

Morgan was distracted just long enough for his character to receive disembowlment from a number of Orcs.

"Ooh, that's really too bad."

"No joke."

"I find that if I go to the left and proceed counter clockwise that usually does it."

Morgan froze, completely stunned. It couldn't be true. It had to be... impossible. And yet -- "You're Tron."

"Well, I've been told I bear a great resemblance to Bruce Boxleitner but honestly --"

Morgan interrupted, his body radiating excitement. 'You are Tron! I know that tactic. Tron created it, perfected it. The jump and slash. You're a legend among gamers." Morgan paused in his adulation to ask, "Does Devon know that? That you play?"

Mr. Woodcomb leaned close to whisper, "Who do you think is Scarecrow?"

Morgan was shocked. "You two are gamers?" 

"I sort of had to be in my line of work. I'm one of the doctors testing out the use of video game ability in helping med students to use robotics in surgery. Here's the deal. If someone can't hack the eye/hand coordination then they're out of my program. Normally I go head to head with the students but I don't have the time anymore. Would you be interested in doing a little moonlighting regarding this? Come to my office for a few hours, and screen some people for me?"

"Yes. Yes!"

"Great. Here's my card and," Mr. Woodcomb said, "a little small advance by way of thanking you. And you can pay Devon back before he jacks up that interest rate even more."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you!" 

"I'll see you tonight over at Devon's for New Year's Eve."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

My, how quickly things could change in Buymoria. One day you're a pauper and the next you're a prince.

 **Orange Orange Super Secret Lair. 12/31/08. 6:35pm**

"Wow, Bryce. You were amazing!"

Bryce's shoulders radiated tension as he walked over to the computer station and plugged the flash drive in.

Chuck continued to bubble. Or babble. All he knew was that he had to make some conversation because the silence in the car on the way back to the OOSSL had been deafening. Or perhaps he'd just been concentrating on breathing slowly through his nose in an effort not to puke. Whatever had made him think drinking more tequila and whiskey was a good thing? After that flash of memory he'd felt the need for another drink. Maybe he'd flash on some more. But nothing happened.

Apparently things had gone downhill from there. Mr. Arro and Bryce had a barely restrained challenge about them and Chuck had decided that more drinking would be in order. It ended with Chuck swaying a bit and Bryce having to escort him out to the car. 

Which led him to this moment. Trying to appease his former friend. Okay. His best friend. After all the conversation in the professor's office put the Stanford tragedy in a new light. "I mean, when you swooped in all James Bond like and handed me that whiskey. The look you gave that man... I mean, no wonder you have such a way with women. I felt like a damsel in distress with that guy just _leaning_ and everything, you know, like in that movie with Sandra Bullock, the _leaning_ thing."

Chuck confirmed that yes indeed, he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop. He'd been off balance ever since they'd been in the closet and he was assaulted with the scent of ginger shampoo.

Bryce continued tapping on the keyboard. Chuck wondered if a person could type with irritation. If so, then Bryce was going to punch a hole in the console.

Chuck soldiered on. "I mean you almost had me thinking we were a thing. Damn you're good."

Bryce slammed his fist on the console and rounded on Chuck. "You have no idea how frustrating it is... I mean Christ! Does everyone who meets you fall in love with you?"

Chuck stared at Bryce, not comprehending. Bryce continued pacing and ranting. "First the guys in the frat, then their girlfriends, the professors... Jill --" Bryce spat her name. He rounded on Chuck. "Now Sarah and Casey. And Arro? I mean, you were talking to the guy for all of a minute?"

"I don't think Casey is in love with me."

"You wouldn't. You never see. You spend all of your time going 'woe is me, I was betrayed by my best friend' and all that crap. Christ, Chuck! You had everything. You _have_ everything. But all you can see is your job, your lack of a girlfriend, your--" Bryce stopped abruptly, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke again it was soft.

"You have everything and you always did. You have a sister who would walk to the ends of the earth if it brought you happiness. Friends who would give you their last dollar or steal it if they didn't have it just so you wouldn't go without. You have...." Bryce couldn't bring himself to say it. He would not say it.

Chuck raked his fingers through his hair and opened his mouth. "Bryce. I--"

"Stop. You don't get to say anything. I mean look at yourself! You just sit there, like usual, looking wounded and confused and I'm really tired of trying to fix it."

"Am I interrupting?"

Bryce and Chuck turned to see Casey leaning against the door jam polishing his handgun. Chuck found the heat rising to his face at the thought that Casey had witnessed the argument. Bryce uttered a noise of disgust and pushed past him as he left the room.

Casey's eyes followed Bryce and then he went back to stroking the barrel of his gun with the polishing rag. "Hmm."

"'Hmm' what?" Chuck asked trying to look relaxed and like he hadn't just been caught having what suspiciously felt like a break up argument.

Casey smirked and shook his head.

"What?"

"You're a sloppy drunk, Bartowski." Then he walked off chuckling. Chuck was in the middle of being offended by the comments when another memory seared into his brain. It took his breath away and left him bewildered and lost.

**Stanford University. Bryce and Chuck's room at the fraternity. Six years ago minus a few hours**

"You're a sloppy drunk, Bartowski."

Bryce tried to walk down the hall and support Chuck at the same time but Chuck wasn't even helping. He was putting his full weight on Bryce. "I am an adorable drunk."

"Sloppy." Bryce pushed open the room door and promptly shut and locked it. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I love you, man."

"Drunken ramblings."

Chuck was mightily offended. "I do love you. You always have my back. You take good care of me. You feed me wicked concoctions like tonight."

"It's because you are wicked. Come on, let's get you to bed so you can slee--"

Chuck tripped and fell on his bed, pulling Bryce with him. His nose was planted smack against the soft dark hair at Bryce's nape. He inhaled sharply.

"Mmmm."

"Chuck."

Chuck nuzzled the back of Bryce's neck and made low noises in the back of his throat.

"Chuck."

Chuck shifted and Bryce rolled onto his back but didn't move away. "Chuck."

Chuck continued to nuzzle Bryce's neck, inhaling slowly. Exhaling slowly, the moist warm air causing Bryce to shiver.

"Every day you watch me. In the stacks you're so close and it's all I can do not to reach out and grind you against the shelves. Bryce." Chuck kissed his neck. "Bryce." This time he flicked a tongue in Bryce's ear.

Bryce sighed Chuck's name and arched into him. And Chuck found himself overwhelmed. In the dark. With the heat. 

With Bryce moaning into his mouth while Chuck did his best to get close to all that glorious warm skin beneath him.

"Ah, Bryce. Don't ever leave me." 

"Never."

**Bartowski-Woodcomb Apartment. 12/31/08. 11:47 pm**

"Morgan. Would you please go do something about Chuck? He's been locked up in his room playing that song over and over since he came home from work. It's coming on midnight and he needs to join the party!"

"Sure Ellie." Morgan went down the hall to Chuck's room and was about to throw open the door when he realized Ellie wasn't kidding about the song. He knocked instead.

And knocked again. He tried the door but it was locked.

Now wasn't that unusual. What the hell was going on?

"Chuck! You okay, man? Ellie's getting worried. Now I'm getting worried."

The door opened and a rumpled Chuck, desperately trying to be casual, stood in the partially opened doorway. "Hey, Morgan. What was that?"

"Ellie wants you front and center for the ball drop man. We do it every year."

"Yeah. Ok. I'll be right there."

"Something going on in--" Morgan broke off as the door opened wider and he saw Bryce Larkin standing behind Chuck.

"Oh. Bryce. Uh... hello." That seemed much safer than, 'what the hell are you doing here?'

Bryce smiled slowly. "Hey, Morgan."

"So what's going on in there? Ellie was all worried about the music and to tell you the truth I share in that concern because dear God if what I just heard was what you were listening to all day then we need to talk."

Chuck's gaze traveled back to Bryce and the smile didn't seem to go away. Bryce smirked in return and Morgan tried to put a finger on the vibe he was getting but had no luck.

"Looks like you two got some things worked out," Morgan ventured.

"Yeah. We did." Chuck grinned at Bryce.

Morgan figured they forgot he was there as they stared into each others' eyes. It put him in mind of that heart wrenching scene from Wrath of Khan, when Spock lay dying of radiation poisoning on the other side of that last barrier that kept him from Kirk. "I have and always shall be your friend."

It sort of looked like that between Chuck and Bryce. Morgan felt his throat tighten and tears come to his eyes. It was beautiful. Friendship reforged. Kirk and Spock. Spock and Kirk.

And that made him... McCoy. Yeah! Now there's a happy thought.

"So, uh... everyone's waiting in the other...." Morgan trailed off as he realized neither one was paying attention to him. Okay. It was possible to take this whole Kirk and Spock thing too far. After all, there was friendship, there was best friend forever stuff, and then there was --

\-- Oh. Oh! 

Morgan quickly averted his eyes and frantically tried to find a safe place to rest his gaze. "Ahhh, I get it. I... I'm going to head back and I'll tell them that... that you two are... not even aware that I'm here. Yeah. So I'm going to head out and let you two do each other -- uh -- your thing. Do your thing and -- " 

Bryce turned that arrogant smirk on Morgan and shut the door. A lock clicked into place followed by the sounds of fabric tearing and what sounded suspiciously like two grown men's bodies hitting the bed and then crashing to the floor. That was promptly followed by giggling.

Morgan stared at the closed door, appalled. Chuck... Chuck. My brother. My captain. My king. Giggling? He squeezed his eyes shut and found that without sight he had instantly developed superhuman hearing. Like Daredevil. Or the Bionic Woman. Only without the really cool perks.

"Morgan, what are you doing?"

Ah, the dulcet tones of his girlfriend. She'd made it to the party after all. "Nothing. Just looking for you."

"In Chuck's room?"

"Well, ahem. Point. Why would you be in Chuck's room? You wouldn't. So... come closer because I've got something I want to show you."

"If it's in your pants I've already seen it."

"You haven't seen this." And he reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.

Anna stared at it flabbergasted. "You mean...?"

"Yep. I think I'm ready to grow up. I'm ready to move in together. That's the deposit receipt I took out on our apartment.

"Oh Morgan!" Anna threw herself into his arms, hugging and kissing him.

"I just ask that you let me still be true to myself. I have these weird childish and geeky tendencies at times."

"Oh Morgan," Anna sighed. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

**Bartowski-Woodcomb Apartment. 01/01/09. 12:00am**

"Happy New Year."

A low chuckle and the sound of two pairs of lips meeting.

" _Now_ it's a Happy New Year." 

 


End file.
